


Standby

by pearlydewdrop



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: (Or Does It???), ...and four years worth of memories, A Chance to Start Over, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Awkward Romance, College AU (during flashbacks), Denial of Feelings, Disapproving Family, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Flash Forward, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Goodbye Sex, Heart-to-Heart, Heartbreak, Idiots in Love, Love Letter to Dublin, Meant To Be, One Unforgettable Night, Post-Break Up, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Second Chances, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Will They or Won't They?, the one that got away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlydewdrop/pseuds/pearlydewdrop
Summary: Tom hadn't spent the last six years thinking about Sybil Crawley...he just never truly forgot about her. She was the one who got away, the one who Tom had thought he'd never see again. Then low and behold, Sybil shows up unexpectedly in Dublin and needs a place to stay for the night.Will the years have changed them, or are Sybil and Tom more compatible than ever?(Modern AU)
Relationships: Tom Branson/Sybil Crawley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**IMPORTANT:** This story is overall rated fairly 'T' in the vast majority of chapters but the opening is slightly 'M' rated. If you want to skip over these parts, I will put an **'XXX'** on where to stop off and start reading again. Thanks!

* * *

**Standby**

_..._

_Do you think about me at night?_   
_When the sky is losing the light_   
_I swear my head fills up with memories every time._

_~Orla Gartland, Heavy_

...

_**Six Years Earlier.** _

Tom's kisses were hungry and desperate, his hand caressing the length of her thigh and grabbing her hips with the enthusiasm of a drowning man panting for mouthfuls of lifesaving oxygen.

"Oh my darlin'!"

Their lips were crushed together, teeth clashing, tongues twining and bellies burning with desire.

Sybil wrapped her arms tightly around Tom, reversing their intertwined bodies until the back of her knees hit the edge of his mattress. They toppled on to it together; an utterly heartbroken mess.

_They shouldn't be doing this—they had only just broken up! Well adjusted people do not go around shagging their exes!_

**XXX**

With one hand lost in his thick sandy hair and the other making quick work of unbuttoning his jeans, Sybil gave back just as unrelentingly and insistently as she got. She felt his errection press hard against her already wet centre. Sybil clawed for Tom's t-shirt, pulling it over his head in one practiced swoop.

"Mmmmh Tommm."

She reached for her own shirt, tossing it off as Tom's lips quickly descended on her neck, collar and chest—peppering her burning and tingling flesh with hot open mouthed kisses.

Moaning softly, she arched her back up into him. It was hard not to get lost in a heady trance—especially when Tom was looking at her the way he was; his sea blue eyes filled with so much desire and longing. His lips reached her nipples, sucking so hard that she wanted to scream.

"Oh Sybil", he panted out, drawing her in for another long and heated kiss.

She didn't know how he did it, one look and Tom Branson could make her whole body shiver with pleasure, making her want him every bit as much as she did the day they first met.

She reached into his trousers, taking him in her hand. Tom groaned at her feather light touch.

_They shouldn't be doing this—she was going to America soon!_

Sybil felt Tom's familiar skin against her own, their bodies irrevocably entangled until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. She didn't really want to leave him. She didn't really want to loose him.

Goodness, how the last few weeks they had spent apart had been utterly miserable!

Once again, his lips found her breasts and her teeth grazed his neck, fingers running across the expanse of his broad shoulders as she tussled him out of the remainder of his clothes.

Tom's fingers slipped between her legs, finding a steady rhythm that had Sybil gasping—longing for more as soon as the sweet sensation began to reach its peak.

Her hips rose up as his hand slipped away...the bloody tease!

"Tom, I need you!"

_They shouldn't be doing this—they both knew it would never work between them!_

With their fingers entwined above her head, Tom finally thrust into her. Sybil fingers cradled his face, thumb brushing over the cartilage of his ear as he finally filled her. She could feel his warm chest pressed against her own, and feel as his gorgeous forearms encircled her writhing body.

Sybil wrapped her legs around Tom's waist, kissing his sweaty brow and breathing in the scent of him—just him. Hands slipping from his shoulders to his backside, she urged him on, pleading him with her eyes to go harder. He responded in kind, his lips falling on Sybil's shoulder and his eyes never for a moment leaving hers.

Tom always watched her as they made love, and she him...

**XXX**

Despite the conflict that lingered in the back of her mind, Sybil still felt a swell of pride at how she made his lovely blue eyes so dark and dilated, so full of fire...she loved seeing Tom like this.

They lost themselves in the primal and intuitive movements of their bodies, every plunge sending a new shard of pleasure rocketing through them.

_They shouldn't be doing this—not now, not when life would soon be separating them by three and half thousand miles._

Afterwards, they lay together—her head on his chest and his nose buried in her hair like nothing had ever changed between them.

Silently, they tried to hold on to the moment before it would be swept away forever.

Sybil listened to the sure and steady pounding of Tom's heart beneath her cheek, desperately trying to keep her tears at bay. Tom's fingers traced careful circles down her bare back, fingers brushing the length of Sybil's spine—as though wishing to feel every inch of her before he knew they would have to let go.

"I need to go, Tom. I have to be at the airport in a few hours."

Tom looked at her for a moment silently drinking in the sight of her.

He looked rather lost and immediately Sybil found herself feeling rather guilty...her wonderfully charismatic Irishman all of a sudden looking more vulnerable than she had ever seen him before.

"Are you sure we wouldn't be able to make this work, Sybil?"

She shook her head, wishing that she could (even in part) agree to his suggestion. But their timing, and their circumstances...it was all just so desperately wrong.

Surely no one could cope with the pressures of medical school, an internship at a top newspaper and a long distance relationship all at once...not even them.

"I don't think so."

Tom nodded, biting his bottom lip as though he were trying to hold back tears of his own. He reached out, taking her hand and squeezed her fingers.

"Tell me you don't love me?"

Rather startled, Sybil recoiled—choking back a sob. She had expected many different requests to fall from his lips, but not that, never that. Ever since they had first met, Tom had always been such an optimist—a man who would never have asked such a thing unless he was really, truly, hurting.

She crawled out from under the covers. "You know I can't!"

"Then stay?", Tom asked, his earnest tone suggesting that he was being perfectly serious. "You could go to medical school in Dublin."

Sybil frowned, the pair of them already having had this argument. "Come with me?", she rebutted, giving the very same response as she had before. "You could get a job in New York?"

They were both silent, both knowing that either suggestion was not a viable option...not right now, and maybe not ever. They both knew Sybil had always wanted to finish her training in America, just as they both knew Tom would always favour writing on Irish issues over any other political or social subject—something he couldn't do anywhere but Dublin.

Silently, they got up and started to redress.

No more words were shared between them from that point on, their only acknowledgment of the other's presence being a handful of lonely glances over morning coffee and buttered toast.

Sybil grimaced as she looked up at the clock in Tom's slightly chaotic looking flat, feeling her head hurt and her stomach twist uncomfortably at the harrowing thought of leaving him.

Tom nodded solemnly, realising the time as well but clearly not wanting to be the first to say goodbye.

"I'll see you, Tom", Sybil said simply, not wanting to sound so final.

She took in the sight of him, bedraggled and heartbroken, and supposed that she must have looked somewhat similar herself.

He nodded in return, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tom seemed to be restraining himself from reaching over to hug or kiss her one last time, both of them knowing that such an action would break them altogether.

"God, I hope so."

* * *

**Present Day.**

Tom sighed deeply, burying his face in his hands. His head pounded, his mouth was dry and the lights in his Ma's tourist office made his eyes burn painfully.

There were hangovers, then there were killer hangovers...this one was the latter.

It had been an absolutely shite couple of weeks...no, it had been a shite couple of months.

Despite his best efforts, Tom Branson had found himself between jobs—back working in his mother's tourist office in Dublin Airport like he'd done all the way through secondary school.

His editor had told him to stop poking his nose into the government's mismanagement of the housing crisis. Tom had been warned that their readership wasn't interested in how international developers were knocking down the homes of people who'd lived in North Dublin all their lives, forcing them to sell up and move. 'It's just not our angle', they'd told him.

So Tom had left...and found it bloody hard to find work ever since.

Downing his mug of black coffee, he silently cursed Kieran and Seamus for encouraging him to go out and 'paint the town green' with them the night before.

"We'll start in your Da's and go on to Coppers, it'll be a right blast", Seamus had encouraged, knowing full well that both he and Kieran could drink Tom under the table without so much as lifting a finger.

_Ahh feck them!_

"So Ma, what's the story for today?", Tom asked watching as his mother, Margaret Branson, joined him up at the front desk.

She shrugged noncommittally, sticking a brightly coloured post-it with some random bed and breakfast's phone number up on the small clipboard at their side of the counter. "Nothin' much, a few rooms opened up in Flynn's that's about it."

Tom shook his head, sighing deeply. "Remind me again what our job is?"

Margaret smirked affectionately, reminded—as she so often was of late—of the years Tom had spent working for her as a grumpy teenager.

"We love Dublin", she deadpanned with a small sympathetic smile, a smile that told Tom that she knew just how much the job was slowly killing him.

"Will you open up now, Tommy? The morning flights will be landing soon."

Tom saluted playfully, groggily getting up out of his seat. "Will do."

* * *

Gritting his teeth, Tom plastered on a smile as he tried to remain calm and collected.

_'Somebody put a bullet in my head now!',_ he thought frustratedly.

Working behind the counter of Dublin Airport's tourist office, Tom had seen it all; folks trying to convince him to charge children's bus tour fairs for their clearly adult offspring, the stuffy businessmen who claimed they knew him from school and the poor eejit who was obsessively looking to be pointed in the direction of the nearest toilets.

"Why did nobody tell me that it rains here ALL the time, twenty four hours a day. How do you get anything done!", a particularly irritated tourist exclaimed, growing redder and redder in the face as Tom adamantly refused to argue back.

"People NEVER shut up about the weather! Has anyone told you that the beer in Temple Bar costs THE EARTH! And don't get me started on the price of sandwiches!"

Tom shook his head in agreement, pretending to listen even though his mind was miles away.

He glanced over at Ethel, his ma's other employee, who promptly stuck a post-it note up on their side of the counter, smiling at Tom wearily.

_'Fuck this guy!',_ it said, with a scribbled arrow that pointed over the desk in the direction of their particularly curmudgeonly customer.

Tom smirked, shaking his head—hardly able to blame her for throwing him to the dogs when Ethel sluggishly got up and headed for the back office.

* * *

Lunchtime had come and gone by the time things had finally settled back into their usual midday mundanity. Sitting next to his mother, Tom slouched in one of the office chairs—dreaming of his escape from this bloody airport!

"I'm sorry, could somebody help me? I'm looking for a room, any kind of room."

The woman's voice, polite and husky and British, was one he would have known anywhere...it jolted him from his reverie.

Unable to believe his ears, Tom glanced up in utter amazement—coming face to face with someone he hadn't seen in six years, someone he hadn't been able to completely forget no matter how hard he'd tried.

Even after all this time, she still made his heart pound.

_Sybil Crawley._

...

_There is nothing worse than meeting the right person at the wrong time._

_~Anon_

...

* * *

**Hello guys! Hope you are all well! Let me know if you liked the first chapter, if you would like to read more or you world rather I focus on my other stories :) BTW, this is going to be loosely based off the romcom of the same name, it's fantastic!**

**Anyways wishing you all the best in these weird times,**

**Pearlydewdrop xx**

**'Coppers': Short for Copper Faced Jacks (a real and very famous night club in Dublin)**


	2. Chapter 2

---  
  
**Standby: Chapter 2**

_..._

_Are you moving on with your life?_

_Did you find a job you like?_

_I always thought you could do anything._

_~Orla Gartland, Heavy_

_..._

**Six Years Earlier**

The overhead lights dimmed slightly for a split second, the tram's carriage rattling as it turned around a corner, swerving as it began making its way from the Branson family home in Killester to Sybil's flat in Drumcondra.

In the daytime, or even worse during the morning rush hour, the Luas would usually be filled with a seething mass of humanity—everyone from every walk of life all jam packed together, shoulder to shoulder like sardines in a tin; no personal space, no exceptions.

However, just after midnight that Sunday, things were a little different. It was just the pair of them in their carriage, curled up together as the inner suburbs of Ireland's metropolis whirled past their window; Artane, Clontarf, Ratheny, Rathmines, Trinity College, Broadstone.

Sybil gripped tightly onto the bright yellow bar in front of her, steading herself as the tram began to gain momentum. Rather sleepily, she moved her head from the crook of Tom's neck, pushing her flashcards back into his lap. "Ask me again?", she requested, gesturing towards her notes.

Her final exams for her Bachelors in Human Health and Disease were quickly approaching and with Tom's dissertation already finished and submitted, he had offered to help her prepare.

"Syb, you know that I haven't a clue what half of this stuff is?", he teased softly, scanning the brightly coloured cards for something familiar. "What's this one on again?"

Sybil smiled, tugging on the drawstrings of her ( _or more accurately his_ ) grey Trinity College jumper as she attempted to wake herself up a bit.

"Gynaecology", she replied, shoving the rather oversized sleeves up to her elbows. "The green ones are prenatal conditions and the pink ones are postnatal."

She watched the crease between Tom's eyebrows deepen, his blue eyes skimming over her written words.

While the complex terminology for diseases and their meticulously set out treatments were certainly much more her forte than his, Sybil honestly found Tom's earnest willingness to help her out immeasurably sweet.

"I do appreciate this, you know?."

Tom flashed her a smile, one that made her heart swell.

"Don't I owe you this at least, especially after you read through all ten thousand words of my dissertation? I don't think socioeconomic journalism is any more your cup of tea than...", Tom trailed off with a frown. "What's this, Love? Pre—what?"

"E-clamp-si-a", Sybil filled in helpfully, peering over his shoulder.

"Right. Well, this is definitely more your thing than mine."

Feeling a little more awake, Sybil threw him a cheeky grin in response.

"I don't know, darling. I think you secretly have a soft spot for medical jargon."

Tom glanced up at her, eyebrows raised teasingly. "Well, they do say smart is the new sexy", he parried, playfully squeezing her knee.

Sybil smirked, looking rather like a cat who got the cream. She eyed Tom appreciatively, certain that she could (and would) pay him the very same compliment. He was her perfect match in every way; mind, body and soul. It was one of the many things she loved desperately about their relationship.

"That they do", she agreed, resting her hand purposefully on top of his.

"So are you going to enlighten me, Future Doctor Crawley?", Tom asked, knowing that if their conversations continued down this route nothing would ever get done.

Grinning slightly, Sybil easily recalled what she knew on the subject.

"Preeclampsia is diagnosed by the elevation of the expectant mother's blood pressure usually after the twentieth week of pregnancy. Important symptoms to watch for include headaches, abdominal pain, shortness of breath, nausea, vomiting, confusion, heightened state of anxiety, and/or visual disturbances such as oversensitivity to light or blurred vision."

She glanced at him for confirmation, Tom nodded in approval. "Great, and the treatment?"

"Depends upon how the condition is progressing", Sybil replied, frowning slightly as she struggled to recall the more specific details. She settled back in her seat, possibly getting a quick glance into the flashcard that her boyfriend was reading from.

Tom dramatically drew her notes close to his chest, leaving her to roll her eyes at his antics.

"I wasn't trying to take a peek, you know?"

"Of course you weren't, Love", he teased in return. "Just making sure."

Sybil smirked smugly and continued to rattle off what else she remembered.

"The healthcare provider should watch for signs of instability in the mother, including very high blood pressure that isn't responding to any kind of antihypertensive drug, signs the kidneys or liver are failing, and a reduced number of red blood cells or platelets. Providers must also watch closely for indications of an impending seizure or signs the brain is about stroke. If this is the case, they may treat the patient with an intravenous drip of magnesium sulfate."

"And if an IV is not on hand?"

A beat. Sybil turned to Tom with a frown, snatching her notes from his grasp.

"Oh Fuck it!", she mumbled, feverishly scanning the cards for her answer. In the last four years that she had been studying in Ireland, her swearing had become quite a bit more flippant—something that (under more normal circumstances) amused her boyfriend to no end.

"An intermuscular shot of magnesium sulfate into the left or right buttock, how could I forget?"

Tom smiled comfortingly, running a soothing hand down her back—almost making her feel better. "Don't worry, Syb. You have time. We can still go over all of this later if you want."

Sybil smiled weakly, still tense. "It's going to be a long night."

"And I'll be with you every step of the way", Tom responded instantly, giving her a small peck on the temple. "C'mere."

Sybil sighed, taking a deep breath—hoping it would relieve some of the stress she could already feel building up in her chest. Leaning into Tom's embrace, she scarcely prevented herself from voicing aloud her most recent fears for the future—their future.

"Love, you know it'll all be grand ."

"I hope so."

Looking up at Tom and seeing the genuine concern and love in his eyes, Sybil tried not to think too much about the email that she had received earlier in the week from her mother's Alma Mater in New York. They had offered her a place for the next academic year at their University's Medical School provided that her grades at the end of term were up to snuff.

_...and Tom knew nothing about it..._

Sybil truly and honestly hated feeling as though she was keeping something important from him, but she still hadn't decided what she wanted to say _(or do!)_ about any of it.

Entwining their fingers, she tried desperately not to think too much about what her leaving Dublin to study in America would mean for them.

Could she really leave Tom and the life that she had grown to love so much? Did she even want to?

Sybil couldn't answer either of those questions just yet.

**Present Day**

Tom felt his heart hammer in his chest as he took in the sight of his ex-girlfriend, he glanced up over his computer screen—certain that Sybil hadn't seen him yet.

She looked more or less just like he remembered, although her dark curls had grown out considerably from their college days and her clothes were a little less casual.

To him, Sybil Crawley was as gorgeous as ever...maybe even more so.

He watched as his mother approached her, her voice full of instant recognition. Sybil's eyes brightened, immediately remembering Margaret Branson too.

"Sybil dear, is that you?", Margaret Branson asked in surprise, leaning over the counter to give the younger woman a quick hug. "Or should I say, Doctor Crawley?", she added teasingly.

Grinning in return, Sybil . "I finished my residency a few months ago", she said casually, her modesty utterly betrayed by the pride shining in her eyes.

Margaret patted her on the arm. "Good girl, your family must be fierce proud."

"They are."

Tom smiled to himself, genuinely happy for Sybil—she really did look happy!

He ducked his head back down behind the computer screen as he listened to their conversation—unsure whether or not he wanted his presence known.

Did he really want to see Sybil again? Speak to her again? Surely it would be, if anything, painfully awkward.

He glanced up again, still a little amazed.

_'Oh for feck's sake...',_ Tom thought, pulling himself together. It had been over six years since he'd seen her last. The whole latter half of their twenties had come and gone.

_He was over Sybil, wasn't he? Well and truly over her_.

Chancing another look, Tom was very careful not to catch Sybil's eye. His heart thumped nervously at the sight of her, betraying him totally.

Sybil smiled warmly at his mother's praise, bashfully changing the subject from her own accomplishments. "But how are you more to the point, Mrs Branson? How's everyone?"

Margaret smirked affectionately, knowing full well that the young woman standing in front of her had once loved her son to pieces. Sybil had probably been Tom's only girlfriend Margaret had genuinely grown to like over the years...but then again, it was hard to dislike Sybil.

"And by everyone you mean Tom?"

Panicking, Tom leaned further down into his chair. She didn't mince words, his mother—most certainly not.

'Ahh for god's sake, Ma!', he mumbled under his breath, unsure how his ex would take such a ribbing.

A blush crept up on Sybil's cheeks. "Well, I meant Kieran, Meadhbh and Bridget too...", she returned awkwardly, her voice coming out a little flustered as she listed off the other Branson siblings. "...but yes, how is Tom? Did he end up finding a newspaper that suited him?"

Margaret Branson glanced over her shoulder, catching Tom's eye. She winked conspiratorially at him—causing him too to redden up to his ears. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Sybil followed his mother's gaze, beaming instantly despite her discomfort when Tom's eyes met her own. He glanced up at her, smiling gracelessly in return—there was nowhere to hide now.

"Golly Tom, you haven't changed at all!"

They stared silently at one another for a moment, a wealth of fond memories _(and not so fond memories)_ passing wordlessly between them in a single meaningful gaze.

Tom smiled genuinely, touched by her delight at running into one another again. "It's lovely to see you, Sybil."

Margaret chuckled slightly, motioning to a quizzical Ethel to follow her into the back office.

"I'll let you two catch up."

As they watched Margaret and Ethel leave in silence, Sybil and Tom turned back to one another hesitantly—neither entirely sure where to begin and what to say to each other after six years apart.

Awkward silences had never really been an issue between them before. For four years straight they had never once ran out of things to talk about.

"Were you trying to hide from me?", Sybil accused teasingly, finally breaking the ice.

Tom rolled his eyes, falling back into their old banter. "Would I ever?"

The two of them laughed together for a moment, the deafening tension ebbing slightly as they slowly became somewhat more at ease.

"I suppose we should hug...or something." Sybil suggested after a moment, biting her bottom lip—half expecting him to reject to such a proposal entirely.

Tom shrugged, instantly ensure of whether or not he was supposed to make the first move. He suddenly became very aware of his arms. They were hanging uselessly by his sides.

Several long seconds passed, Sybil and Tom stared blankly at one another—neither moving an inch, feet shifting uneasily .

"Do you want to?"

"I thought you didn't..."

"Only if you do."

"Do you?"

"Oh c'mere, love", Tom said decidedly, the old term of endearment slipping out accidentally as they both grew increasingly pink faced and flustered.

Sybil smiled slightly, still clearly not knowing what to do with herself as she reached up on tiptoes to stretch over the counter and embrace him. Feeling rapidly more self conscious, Tom wrapped his arms around her in return, his hands settling on her mid back.

Eyes wide up, they hung on for a little while...both waiting for the other to let go.

Tom already knew Sybil would have questions about what he was doing working in his mother's tourist office, seeing as how she'd broken up with a recently qualified Politics and Journalism graduate six years previously...but Sybil, still not looking fully comfortable, was too polite to ask about it. Tom wondered vaguely what she would make of the story, would she be impressed that he'd stuck to his principles even if it had lost him his job.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know...

"So how did you end up here again?", Tom asked, turning his full attention back to her as they disentangled themselves.

He knew that Sybil couldn't have had anyone in Dublin to visit—he hadn't been the only one she had lost touch with when she went to America. Most of their friends from college hadn't heard from Sybil at all since graduation save for the odd Facebook message.

"I was going home for Mary's birthday next weekend but my flight had some electrical troubles on the way over, so we landed here. I'm on standby for a flight to Heathrow tomorrow morning."

"Hence you're looking for a room?", Tom asked, reaching blindly to the clipboard under the counter to where his mother had tacked up several notices about local B&Bs with vacancies for the night.

"Exactly", Sybil confirmed, glancing down at the post-it note Tom had set down on the counter. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, her cheeks burning once more. Amusement coloured her voice.

"Goodness Tom, you were never subtle but _this...this_ is on a whole other level, even for you."

Tom blinked in confusion, wondering for a second what she could possibly mean.

Then it dawned on him...

_'Oh Shite_ ', he thought to himself, instantly horrified. His heart sank and his face paled. ' _Ethel's stupid bloody note'._ Steeling himself amidst his embarrassment, Tom's eyes left Sybil's to read the rather crude and hastily scribbled post-it... immediately confirming his fears. He turned beet red.

' _Fuck this guy!'_

And just Tom's luck, the blasted arrow was pointing to him!

* * *

**Hope some of you guys enjoyed this! Let me know if you're still interested in this story :)**

**Wishing you all a lovely week,**

**Pearlydewdrop xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Standby: Chapter 3**

...

_And I've been running over all the things that I will never say to you_

_Like how I just wanna hang with you_

_And watch Grand Designs_

_~Orla Gartland, Heavy_.

...

**Present Day.**

"Oh Christ! Sorry!", Tom spluttered, tossing Ethel's note away and replacing it with the one his mother had tacked up earlier on.

"There's a room at Flynn's", he added hurriedly, avoiding Sybil's gaze and the sight of their matching flushed faces. "Upper Gardiner Street, near the Rotunda. I'd say you'll know it. "

The air was so brittle, it may easily have snapped. One painfully long and awkward moment dragged on until it seemed as though an eternity had passed in a matter of seconds. Tom swore that Sybil could probably hear his heart hammer... he knew that he could.

He chanced a look at her and found himself surprised ( _and then relieved_ ) by the silent laughter that glinted in Sybil's eyes. Tom released a breath that he scarcely knew that he had been holding, rolling his eyes in amazement.

Of course Sybil would find this funny!

She bit back a grin, radiating a certain kind of inherently Sybil mischief (both _warm_ and _teasing_ ) that somehow reminded Tom of just how much some he had missed her all this time.

"Well you're more hands on than the New York tourist office, I'll give you that."

"Land of a thousand welcomes, what can I say?"

His eyes searched hers, seeing a multitude of conflicting unspoken emotions bubbling just below the surface. Tom almost swore he saw a momentary flicker of pain crossing Sybil's face and knew then that her thoughts had gone down a rather similar path to his own.

"So you didn't drop off the face of the earth..."

"And neither did you."

"No...no, I didn't."

Looking at Sybil for the first time in six years, Tom couldn't help but think of three years of firm friendship forged in the fires of Trinity's debating society, a bond over social issues and politics that had led to shared meals with his family around The Bransons' dinner table and long walks from the edges of Sandymount beach all the way up to the Martello Tower—discussing everything from his latest assignment to her day in the anatomy labs.

Tom thought of how things began to change and how he and Sybil's friendship slowly began to become...more. He thought of the frequent 'accidental' brushes of fingers and hips and the glances that suddenly carried more weight than they had ever had before, like a switch had been flicked somewhere inside of them.

After one particularly maddening night out in Temple Bar, Tom recalled how he and Sybil had unceremoniously stumbled into her old flat, clothes all but discarded before they had even reached her bed. In his mind's eye, Tom could still see her—remember what Sybil felt and tasted like.

She'd fallen in love with him, and he with her. At twenty one years old, it was just that simple.

Tom thought of how he had gone, hired tails and all, with Sybil to Downton Abbey as her date for Mary's wedding. He remembered her father's pointed glares, her grandmother's bristling disapproval and how Sybil had dismissed it all and wrapped her arms all the more tightly around him on the dance floor.

He thought of how they'd broken up six months later, regardless of how neither of them had truly wanted to at the time. Tearful shouting matches aside, Tom understood now why Sybil had made the decisions she had.

They had been young, too young to make a life changing commitment to one another. They'd had careers to start ( _or in his case, feck up!)_ and lives to build, lives that had taken them in very different directions.

"You know, Sybil", Tom suggested earnestly, spontaneously. He pushed aside his memories and his hurt. That was all in the past now. "I could put you up for the night."

Raising her eyebrows, Sybil glanced away from him to the rubbish bin that held Ethel's discarded note. Her eyes held a firm and blatant uncertainty.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Tom", she answered gently.

Tom shook his head, hurrying to clear up any kind of misunderstanding. This wasn't a prepositioned hook up, he just wanted to talk to her again—talk to her properly. Preferably over a pint.

"No funny business or anything. Just two friends catching up."

Sybil seemed to consider his proposal for a moment. "I don't know", she replied suggestively , her tone perfectly serious. "I'm not so sure that I'll be able to get _that_ post-it note out of my mind."

A beat. Tom gaped at her, his eyebrows raised.

No matter how well they had come to understand one another, Sybil had always been able to throw him a metaphorical curve ball, leaving him flummoxed and wondering whether she was joking or not.

A moment passed. Her lips curled upwards. Then suddenly, Sybil burst out laughing at his expression, prompting Tom to immediately shake his head in self depreciating amusement.

She got him! ( _but in a way, had anything really changed in that respect)_

_"_ So, what about it?", Tom tried again. He matched her playfulness, as persistent as ever. "Will you stay, make an evening of it? I could show you what you've been missing about dear 'oul dirty Dublin."

"That's still awfully presumptuous of you", Sybil teased. "How do you know I haven't any responsibilities?"

Tom tilted his head sideways, "Do you?"

Sybil made a face, shrugging slightly. For a moment she looked as though she were about to say something else, but thought better of it.

"Nothing comes to mind", Sybil admitted, her emerging smile mirroring Tom's.

"Alright then."

"Alright."

* * *

**Seven Years Earlier**

Sybil stood on the beach in Sandymount, her boots in the sand and her woolen coat buttoned tightly around her frame. Her eyes moved from sand to stone, from rock pools to breaking waves.

The evening wind was cold and biting and the air was thick with the briny aromas of the Irish Sea. Twinkling like a starry night, the expansive lights of Dublin city were visible dotted both across the horizon and spreading out behind them as far as the eye could reach.

Even through her coat, Sybil could feel Tom's warmth beside her, sense his presence even outside the moments when his knuckles brushed against her own.

They made their way along the beach, following the strand, all the way down to the crumbling Martello Tower—nursing disposable cups of tea from Mulligan's.

"I'm sorry about Bellasis", Tom sympathised softly, breaking their companionable silence. His voice provided a certain kind of comfort and support that she wasn't even sure that she needed.

"Are you alright?"

Sybil considered about Tom's question for a moment, hands sinking deep into her pockets.

Was she truly okay after breaking up with Tom Bellasis? In all honesty, she was...

Admittedly, Sybil had known for several weeks now that Tom Bellasis's feelings had begun to grievously outweigh her own. She knew that it would be completely unfair to stay with him, especially when he had stubbornly remained _'the other Tom'_ when she referred to him in her own thoughts as opposed to _'her Tom_ '...a moniker that would never belong to anyone other than Tom Branson.

"I am actually", Sybil confessed, glancing at Tom ( _her Tom_ ) over her shoulder. "We just...weren't a right fit. Does that make sense?"

Tom looked a little apologetic for the next words that came out of his mouth, but come out they did. "Well, not to sound like a smart arse, but I reckon I could have told you that."

Surprising even herself, Sybil wasn't in the slightest bit annoyed by his admission—she had seen her break up with Tom Bellasis coming for quite some time herself, why shouldn't have that been obvious to hear best friend. "Fair enough."

"And you feel better now?"

"I do...is that a horrible thing to admit?"

Tom shakes his head. "Don't be daft, Sybil. If that's how you feel, that's how you feel", he reassured, clearly noticing that Sybil still seemed rather troubled. "There's nothing wrong with admitting it."

"You think so?"

"Of course I do."

Feeling rather childish, Sybil grinned slightly—leaning into him. Being with Tom here like this, talking openly with him... it was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "Promise?"

Chuckling, Tom shoved her gently with his shoulder until they both stumbled sideways in the sand.

Despite herself, Sybil laughed aloud and elbowed him in return as they fell back into step with one another.

"You deserve someone who's wonderful, Syb", Tom said genuinely, not quite meeting her eye as they recovered from their messing. "Someone who will challenge you, drive you mad, make you happy and love you to the moon and back every step of the way."

He looked at her openly, honestly, raw—an expression that, coupled with his words, made Sybil's heart swell as she looked at her friend...her best friend really. Deep down, she knew that there was only one person in the entire world who perfectly and seamlessly fitted that description...Tom, _her Tom._

Oh Goodness, how Sybil wished _so badly_ it were that simple.

Theirs was a friendship that both she and Tom were determined to protect and preserve. Neither of them had an exactly stellar track record with their previous relationships and both were clever enough to accept that what they had already was too special to ruin.

"You're sweet to say so, Tom," Sybil offered with a slight smile, one that she hoped concealed the raging feelings for him that she struggled to keep buried down deep inside. "I'm terribly flattered."

Tom smirked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders in a manner that Sybil tried to assure herself was strictly 'best buddy' style.

Usually he would make some half serious/half teasing remark about how 'flattered' was a word posh people used when they were about to reject something nice said about them—but tonight wasn't the time or place for those sorts of comments.

"I mean it, Sybil. You're the best person I know. Someday you'll find someone who'll happily dedicated their every waking minute to your happiness...and he'll be the luckiest bastard in the world."

Sybil tried to ignore how Tom so effortlessly made her heart skip a beat.

"Until then, I'm here for you, Sybil. I always will be."

"As I will be for you, Tom."

* * *

With a tea stained counter, a table with a wobbly leg and a multi-coloured assortment of mugs hooked up over the sink—Mrs Branson's kitchen couldn't have been further from the dining room at Downton Abbey.

While The Crawleys were generally loving and protective of one another, time spent as a family was steeped in a sense of propriety and tradition. These were values that went all but out the window in the Bransons' family home. Laughter, teasing and playful (yet strangely well meaning) insults were how almost everything was communicated, and if not voices became raised and tempers came out.

Sybil sat cross-legged on the couch, having crashed there the night before. Mrs Branson had insisted that it would be easier for her to stay the night in Killester and go into college with Tom in the morning rather than to travel all the way out to Drumcondra so late at night.

It wasn't a very frequent occurrence, but it did happen from time to time.

She glanced up from the essay in front of her, an essay belonging to Tom's sister Meadhbh who was still in secondary school.

_'A discussion on the oppression of women in Shakespeare's Hamlet.'_

Sybil supposed that it was rather inevitable that she would befriend a second Branson sibling. After all, they truly did share many of the same ideas and passions. That, and it was rather nice having someone who looked to her as a big sister after being so accustomed to her role as the baby of the Crawley family.

"So?"

"I think it's rather brilliant, Meadhbh. I don't know why you were so worried."

"Really?"

"Truly."

It was then that Tom walked into the kitchen, clearly looking like he had just rolled out of bed. He nodded to Meadbh, before flopping down on the couch next to Sybil.

"Mornin'", he said, moving his head to rest it on her shoulder.

Sybil smiled, playfully reaching up to ruffle his bedhead. "Good Morning."

Tom grinned lazily in return, glancing down at the notepad she was holding—reading the title. He looked up at his sister mock-accusingly.

"What this? I thought I was your designated proofreader."

Meadhbh smirked, clearly remembering the time Tom tried to convince her to rewrite an entire three thousand word history essay just because he didn't agree with all of her points on Sean Lemass's attempts towards Irish industrialisation. "You're too critical. Sybil's nicer to me."

"Well, Sybil's nice to everyone", Tom countered teasingly. "I'm just honest."

"No, you're tactless."

Listening to them, Sybil rolled her eyes. She was almost as accustomed to Tom and Meadbh's banter as she was to the oftentimes vicious exchanges between Mary and Edith.

Sybil pinched Tom playfully in the side, handing the essay back to the younger girl.

"I'm being perfectly honest too. Meadhbh", Sybil said with an encouraging smile—mock glaring at Tom. "I wouldn't change a thing. Your brother's just being a prat."

Feigning hurt, Tom got up from the couch but still reached over to help Sybil up as well.

"I am not!"

"You are too...", Sybil returned with a chuckle as Tom puffed out his chest in disbelief. Her next words came out quietly, almost as if by accident, as he pulled her to her feet. "...but you're my prat."

Tom expression softened and he smiled affectionately at Sybil in return, making her cheeks darken.

Suddenly, she became very aware of the fact that several seconds had passed and neither she or Tom had released the others' hand.

Glancing between her brother and Sybil, Meadhbh chuckled in amazement—breaking the spell.

"Oh for feck's sake", she said, shaking her head. "I'll never know why you two don't just hook up and get it over with!"

* * *

**A/N: Hi guys! Hope ye enjoyed the update. Thanks so much for all of your wonderful support so far. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, it would mean so much to me to know what you think. Hope you are all keeping well and having a nice day :)**

**Thanks again!**

**Pearlydewdrop xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Standby: Chapter 4**

_..._

_I've been trying to train my mind to put you in another category_

_But it's still not coming naturally_

_After all this time_

_~Orla Gartland, Heavy._

_..._

**Present Day.**

The great orange sunsets of early October stained the waters of the nearby Liffey with colours of green, red and gold. Passing the Spire, the General Post Office and walking over O'Connell's Bridge, Sybil and Tom made their way from end of Dublin's historic centre to the intersection that led to Abbey Street.

Steering clear of any serious topics, they chatted casually about some of the more trivial happenings of their own lives, their voices mingling with the bustle of the city.

Around them, the buildings of Abbey Street were all made of the same semi-faded brick red. The worn grey footpaths were teeming with people; tourists and Dubliners alike—heads down, all rushing from one place to another.

To Tom, it was home. These were the streets he'd walked his whole life. He glanced over his shoulder at Sybil who seemed to be drinking in their surroundings—taking notice of the subtle little things that had changed over the past six years.

"Well", he asked after watching her in silence for a few moments. "Has it changed much?"

Sybil turned to him with a smile, visibly happier and more relaxed than he had seen her thus far. She shook her head. "Only a little. I'd forgotten how beautiful Dublin was."

"It's got a charm of its own, I suppose", Tom answered offhandedly, returning her smile.

Suddenly, he gestured across the street to a traditional looking pub, brassy letterings over the door and a chair and table just outside. "Over here, Sybil. Kieran and I live in the flat above. Are you sure you don't want a hand with the bags?"

She shook her head, as stubborn as ever. "No, I'm fine. Thanks."

Tom smirked, shaking his head. Life may go on, people may change, the world kept turning and Lady Sybil Crawley remained every bit as stubborn as she was the day he met her.

"You never did learn to travel lightly", he teased good-naturedly.

Rolling her eyes, Sybil followed him across the street. She tugged hard on her rather large leather suitcase, the wheels rattling as she struggled to pull it over the curb. Somewhat embarrassed, she shrugged noncommittally—going for a little humour.

Sybil cranked her already unmistakably upper crust accent up to an eleven.

"Oh Branson, don't you know that the girl may leave Downton Abbey but Downton Abbey never completely leaves the girl."

Smiling fondly, Tom opened the door to let her inside. "I'll drink to that."

Sybil laughed aloud. "You and my grandmother both."

Rolling his eyes at the bizarre image of he and The Dowager Countess having anything in common ( _and drinking to said thing!),_ Tom followed Sybil inside as she began making her way up the staircase.

"You and Kieran have a nice flat. Very central."

"Thanks", Tom replied, sensing the compliment was truly genuine. "Yeah, it was just me for a while but then I—ah, left my job and Kieran went through a fairly messy divorce. We decided to split the rent between us for a few months. "

Sybil bit her lip, her hesitant tone clearly suggesting that she was worried about seeming overly intrusive. Glancing at him over her shoulder, her gaze was fixed firmly upon his.

"What happened?", she asked quietly, her words lacking the insult and sarcasm that they would usually have coming from just about anybody else. "Weren't you set to be the next Fintan O'Toole?"

"Well, I was up for promotion until I decided to go a bit rogue and piss off my editor."

Her eyebrows raised, Sybil looked at him curiously. "That sounds like a story."

Sheepishly, Tom scratched the back of his neck.

While many of his friends and co-workers had thought his decisions had been a little foolish at best, deep down Tom knew that Sybil ( _or at least the Sybil he had once known)_ would perfectly understand his reasoning.

"Let's just say my views were a little too much on the side of 'the everyday working man' for their liking."

"So you stood up for what you believed in and bit the bullet because of it", Sybil said with a faintly nostalgic smile. She seemed just as grateful as he was that, deep down anyway, the aspects of the other person they had been so fond of had remained inherently the same. "That sounds like you."

Tom smiled humourlessly as they reached the top of the stairs, exuding a quieter self confidence than was usually typical of him. While raising the proverbial middle finger to the Irish Times had cost him his job, he couldn't say that he regretted it.

"You don't think I was a bit stupid then?", he asked. Tom wasn't fully sure why he wanted Sybil's approval but for some unfathomable reason he did. "Not a bit too idealistic?"

Sybil shook her head, squeezing his arm. "Of course not, Tom", she said, her tone almost proud rather than sympathetic. "You're a good man. You always were."

* * *

Tom watched from the doorway as Sybil tentatively explored the bedroom.

Her eyes roamed over the blue-grey walls, the messy desk and the cluttered bookshelf—lingering upon some of the titles, the vast majority of them historical or political works of some description.

Unsurprisingly, Adiechie's ' _Why We Should All Be Feminists_ ' immediately caught her eye. .

"No way", Sybil laughed, looking rather pleased with herself. "It seems as though I made a lasting impression."

Shaking his head, Tom remembered with the affection how a younger Sybil had fervently convinced every member of the 'phil and hist' of the merits of third wave feminism, regardless of whether they had wanted to be educated on the subject.

"That was a Christmas present actually", Tom replied stubbornly, knowing perfectly well she wouldn't believe him.

Sybil rolled her eyes, predictably unconvinced. She glanced around once more, turning to him somewhat accusingly after another moment's observation. "You know, I have a feeling this isn't your guest room."

He chuckled, surrendering to her somewhat half hearted glare. "Guilty as charged...but don't worry, I'll sleep on the couch."

"You know I wouldn't have minded taking the couch."

"And you know that I would have insisted upon you having the bed."

For a moment, Sybil looked as though she was going to argue against putting Tom out of his room for the night but seemed to decide against it...at least for now.

She smiled genuinely. "Thank you."

"No bother", Tom replied with a slight shrug. "Do you need anything else?"

Reaching into her handbag, Sybil pulled out her phone and a charger. "I should probably ring Mama and Papa and let them know I won't be home until tomorrow. Do you have somewhere I could-?"

"Of course. Just over here."

Tom took the proffered phone, showing her where the power socket at the far corner of the room was. Immediately, the screen lit up—showcasing a picture of both Sybil herself and a man whom Tom didn't recognise.

"Oh who's this?", he asked, a little surprised by the unexpected, twinge of jealousy that reared its head the pit of his stomach. Tom immediately tried to push the strange and uncomfortable feeling aside. Sybil's love life really wasn't any of his business...it hadn't been for years.

"That's Larry Grey", Sybil replied almost breezily, an uncharacteristically cold edge creeping into her voice. "His father is a friend of Papa's."

In the four years that Tom had known Sybil, he had only seen her truly angry a handful of times.

She was an innately kind person who generally chose to see the best in others—something that Tom had always aspired to but never quite managed. Larry Grey, whatever he had done, had somehow found himself at the wrong end of Sybil Crawley's wrath...a truly terrifying place, but a place one only got to if they really deserved it.

"I actually meant to change that", Sybil added hastily, her emotions hidden away again almost as quickly as they had revealed themselves.

For the first time since they reunited in the airport, the air between the two former friends felt heavy and tense. Nonetheless, Tom had always been a persistent man—even when he was damn well sure he shouldn't be.

"What's he like?"

Sybil sighed deeply, seeming as reluctant to say anything as she was to stay fully silent on the matter. "An entitled ass, a compromise after a decades worth of rebellion, _my parents' perfect man._ Need I go on?"

Tom frowned slightly, a little surprised. In the four years that he had done known Sybil, she'd rarely spoken ill of her parents—their frequent disagreements aside. His next question had already sprung to his lips before he had properly considered it's impact.

"Your parents' perfect man but _not_ _yours_?"

Sybil crossed her arms defensively over her chest, clearly taken aback. "That's quite a personal question for someone you haven't seen in six years."

Tom's eyes sought out hers. In that moment, he saw hurt in Sybil's eyes...a feeling he that was all too familiar with.

"Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?"

He wasn't sure what it was that compelled him but before Tom knew it, his hand was on her waist and Sybil's flushed face was only inches away from his own. She stared right back in silence, completely undeterred, and drew him a bit closer to her. Her breath on his cheek, her hand on his chest...it was all a little too overwhelming and intoxicating.

"A hundred percent honesty for the whole night, that's what I'm offering you, Love", Tom whispered, knowing full well that with their torturous proximity Sybil wouldn't have the slightest trouble hearing him.

Steeped in a passion that ignites, the air between them crackled with intensity...an intensity that neither had truly experienced in quite some time. Tom felt his stomach clenched as Sybil's darkened eyes lingered over his lips, reminding him of all the times she had done so in the past, just moments before her lips would press against his own. Hot, fiery and demanding...

_They wouldn't now, surely? They couldn't?_

Decidedly, Tom pushed those stupid, mad, ridculous thoughts aside... _madness, absolute madness_. They'd already been there, too many times, and it hadn't ever worked out.

"I'm not sure that I can do that", she whispered.

Tom looked at Sybil resolutely, leaving the final decision with her. "You were always good at hiding your feelings...much better than me anyway."

Sybil frowned at him, almost sadly. "One hundred percent honesty?", she repeated in disbelief, taking a few steps backwards. Tom's hand fell away from her side. "Is that even possible?"

"I'd like to think so."

For a moment Sybil looked as though she was about to refuse him, to flee altogether.

She glanced up at Tom, a familiar steel in her eyes as she accepted his challenge. "Okay then. One hundred percent honesty...or as close as we can get."

* * *

_**Nine Years Earlier** _

Catching his eye, Sybil spotted Tom on his way between The Buttery and The Arts Building. Clipboard in hand, she approached him determinedly. After all, Sybil had never one to take no for an answer. "Hey Tom! Do you have a minute?"

A smile immediately broke out upon his face as he bridged the few final feet between them.

"Sybil, what are you doin' here?", he asked in an attempt to gauge whatever it was she was trying to charm the Trinity student population into taking part in now. "Haven't you lectures down at the Pearse Street campus?"

She beamed up at him, completely ignoring his initial question. "I'm organising a student sleep-out for Focus Ireland"

Reading the proffered flyer, Tom smirked.

"Are you gone mad?", he asked teasingly. "There's no way anyone will sleep outside in Phoenix Park in the middle of November! You'll be a bunch of drowned rats after half an hour!"

Sybil frowned, "Oh for goodness sake, Tom. It's for charity!", she declared, eyeing him crossly. "Did you know that there is an average of nine thousand men, women and children in this country without homes? How can you do nothing?"

"Are you trying to guilt me up?"

"Is it working?"

Tom smirked affectionately, leaning in a little closer to her and dropping his voice. Although he found Sybil's determination to help others rather refreshing, he couldn't help but tease her just a little.

"I take it Lord and Lady Grantham aren't aware that their youngest daughter is planning to spend the night alfresco in the middle of winter. Especially when they're already paying for a flat in a nice safe neighbourhood."

Sybil rolled her eyes, her cheeks darkening.

Quite by accident, Tom had somehow managed to find out that she was a member of the English aristocracy—and while he hadn't mentioned Sybil's secret to anyone else, Tom hadn't exactly refrained from having a little fun with her about the whole matter whenever the two were alone.

"No they aren't ", she admitted reluctantly, swatting Tom lightly on the chest as his goofy grin grew only wider. "I was planning on telling them afterwards."

"A clever choice, milady."

Sybil pursed her lips, suppressing a smile of her own as she looked up at him. "So will you do it?"

Tom returned her smile, softer this time. He playfully tucked a lock of her shoulder length curls behind her ear, pretending to consider Sybil's proposal for a moment.

She bit her lip expectantly, half anticipating his refusal.

"For God's sake, Love", Tom replied, shaking his head. He seemed to know, or guess, which direction her thoughts had gone in. "You hardly think I could refuse you anything?"

* * *

**Review? :) I'd love to hear from you!**

**Wishing you all a wonderful week xx**

_**Notes (that may or may not be necessary) ;** _

_**Fintan O'Toole...a famous Irish journalist.** _

_**The Buttery...student's name for the canteen in Trinity College** _

_**'Phil and Hist'...shorthand name for Trinity's oldest society. Think debating, philosophy and politics.** _


	5. Chapter 5

**Standby: Chapter 5**

_..._

_So tell me why this has to be_   
_So heavy._   
_Tell me why this has to be..._   
_'Cause I really thought that we'd be cool,_   
_Some exception to the rule_   
_But honestly_   
_I think it has to be_   
_This heavy_

_~Orla Gartland, Heavy._

_..._

**Present Day**

Her eyes shone _forget-me-not_ blue...and feck it to blazes, he hadn't forgotten her.

It felt nice, walking into in a pub in Dublin with her for the first time in six years. For some unfathomable reason, it was as though a lifetime and no time at all had simultaneously gone by since Tom and Sybil had last been together.

Doyle's was filled with the characteristic sounds of good natured back slapping, drinking games and hundreds of conversations told in loud voices..all competing with latest hit songs that poured from the jukebox in the corner. The crowd was young, students from the university for the most part. It had once been a reliable haunt of theirs in college.

Sybil held up her hand to the bartender, having insisted upon buying the first round. It was the least she could do, she'd said, after he had given her his bed for the night.

Tom, on the other hand, knew her well enough not to argue on that one.

"Two pints of plain please."

He smirked softly at her order, close enough that Sybil would hear him over the wall of noise surrounding them. It had always amused Tom to no end, the radom tidbits of Irish culture that had rubbed off on her...apparently drinking slang was one of those unexpected acquisitions.

"Appears you weren't the only one to make a lasting impression", Tom teased, repeating her words from earlier on in the evening when she'd poured over his book shelf.

If memory served correctly he had been the one who bought Sybil her first pint of real Irish Guinness on a night out after a purely chance meeting during Fresher's week.

She smiled playfully, shoving a tall glass of the familiar black and white stout into his hand. "Oh so, you're admitting to having bought modern feminist literature now, are you?"

Tom found himself smiling at her, pointedly skirting around the question and directing their conversation back to more a comfortable territory.

"So what's it like to be a doctor? "Anythin' like it is on the telly?"

Although Sybil seemed a little amused by him changing the subject so rapidly, she visibly beamed at the question...positively glowing.

Whether it was from the fact she adored her job or that she was currently reminisng ( _as he was!)_ upon how she used to force him into watching mind numbing hospital dramas with her, Tom couldn't say.

"It's a little less hooking up with handsome coworkers in storage closets, and a little more all nighters spent elbow deep in placenta", she admitted lightheartedly, a genuine smile twitching at the corners of her lips. "but I wouldn't change a thing. I honestly couldn't imagine doing anything else."

Tom nodded, fondly remembering how determined and driven she'd always been.

In truth, it was one of the things that he had always admired about her, one of the things they had always had in common, at least until now...

"That's amazing, Sybil. I'm happy for you...truly."

She nodded, talking a languid sip from her drink. "Thanks...so what about you?"

Tom chuckled darkly, avoiding her eye. He knew that Sybil wasn't asking after his professional life in a condescending manner like a lot of other people tended to do.

But Tom wasn't even sure himself what would happen with his career from here on out, doubting every day whether it was still worth staying in the city he had grown up in.

"I thought we'd already established that my life started taking a nose dive ever since the woman I loved left me six years ago", he replied. Although his words had been intended as a slightly self depreciating joke, they had come out closer to the truth than Tom would even dare to admit to himself.

_Who was he kidding, thinking he was over her!_

Tom chanced a hesitant look at Sybil, immediately feeling guilty when he saw the startled look on her face. "Sorry Sybil. That was a joke...a bad joke"

She observed him for a second before seeming to accept Tom's excuse without a hitch. "Oh..oh, alright. That was very funny, yeah."

For a moment Sybil looked like she was going to say something more, make an equally strange but honest confession, but she thought better of it.

After all, she had always been the more practical and least fanciful of the two of them.

Tom glanced away, ducking his head sheepishly away from Sybil's watchful eye.

An awkward silence fell between the two of them, both ended up avoiding one another's searching glances and choosing instead to watch the crowd milling around them.

* * *

**Seven Years Earlier.**

Meeting him at her doorstep, Sybil eyes swept over Tom's face with a feverish concern.

The skin around his left eye was swollen, his nose was plugged with dried blood and his lips were glued shut by a nasty looking cut. She'd been in quite a panic ever since she first received his call, telling her not to worry but he'd been mugged on his way home from Temple Bar.

"For goodness sake, Tom!", Sybil mumbled, rushing to his side. Her fingers brushed carefully over his face, quickly accessing the damage done and checking to ensure his nose wasn't broken. "Why didn't you just give him your bloody wallet?"

Tom shook his head sheepishly, gently swatting her hands away.

"I wasn't exactly somber at the time, Syb", he defended dryly, purposefully thickening his already unmistakably North Dublin accent for effect. "Turns out being clattered across the face works like a charm to straighten up a drunken bowsie."

Stepping back for a moment, Sybil frowned up at him, her hands on her hips. Granted, something like this hadn't actually happened before...but once was more than enough to see her best friend hurt. "Oh Tom. What on earth am I going to do with you?"

"Stopping frettin', Sybil...I'm grand", he replied reassuringly. Again Tom tried (and failed!) to deflect her concerns with some lighthearted banter. "If I wanted someone to hover, I'd have gone home to Ma. I just need to clean myself up a bit so I don't freak anyone out."

Crossing her arms in frustration, Sybil sighed deeply, throughly unamused by his nonchalance.

"You've already freaked me out", she confessed, pointedly avoiding Tom's eye as she caught his bruised knuckles between both her hands for inspection. Despite how Sybil had intended for her tone to be sharp, her words came out rather soft...utterly betraying how worried she'd been about him and how relieved she was that he was _mostly_ okay.

Although Sybil didn't see it, she heard Tom smirk affectionately. His fingers reached beneath her chin, gently tilting her head up to meet his eye. His smile was warm and apologetic, just enough to ellict a smile from her in return.

Not for the first time, Sybil found herself wondering if this was what it felt like to be truly in love.

Looking an absolute mess and acting as annoyingly stubborn as ever, Tom still managed to make her heart race and her stomach flutter without ever seeming to try.

"What are you going to do when people starting pouring into your emergency room some day?", he asked playfully. "They'll be in far worse shape than me, darlin'"

Sybil scowled in response, decidedly batting his fingers away. "If _you_ ever show up any worse than this in my emergency room, Tom Branson. I'll kill you myself."

At this he laughed aloud, not unkindly.

Tom didn't move an inch from where he stood only inches in front of Sybil. She could feel his breath warm on her face, still smelling of the distinctive woody aroma of Irish whiskey. His nose was inches from hers, their chests somehow having ended up pressed against one another's.

"Wouldn't that be against your Hippocratic Oath, Future Doctor Crawley?"

Despite the wildly conflicting emotions still running rampant inside of her, Sybil didn't know how to feel about Tom's rather distracting electrifying proximity.

While she would end up blaming it on the two glasses of wine that she'd had earlier on in the evening with Edith and Mary, Sybil knew then that her alcohol consumption had nothing to do with the next words that slipped out of her mouth.

"I don't care!", she replied, more passionately than she ever intended to. She watched as Tom's eyes clouded over and darkened just a little...like the sea on a stormy day. Sybil felt a sudden rush of heat in her neck and cheeks. "I need you to look after yourself. I lo-."

"You what?", Tom challenged, eyes searching Sybil's for an honest answer as her voice trailed off and left him wondering.

What exactly Tom was looking for, she didn't dare to guess. However, the flicker of hope Sybil saw reflected back at her in his eyes set her soul alight. He reached out, fingers wrapping around her upper arm.

Sybil's nerve endings sparked at the rather innocent contact and her gaze instinctively fell upon Tom's lips. All cut and bloodied, the sight jolted her back to reality at full tilt.

_Goodness, what was she doing!_

"Never mind", Sybil replied with a decisive shake of her head. Not missing a beat she quickly composed herself, defensive walls shooting right back up again. "Now isn't the time."

Lightly, Sybil pushed her body away from Tom's, her movements careful and deliberate supposing his ribs were bruised.

"Let's get you cleaned up. You'll scare the life out of Mary and Edith otherwise."

As though on que, Tom's head turned in the direction of Sybil's kitchen. For the first time, he seemed to notice the voices of her two older sisters and how they carried through the small flat.

In all honesty, Sybil had forgotten about them herself until then.

Tom sighed, leaning back against the door frame. He shook his head slightly, looking discombobulated and a little disappointed.

"Jaysus, I forget they were here."

Sybil chanced a smile, hoping to defuse the remaining tension between them.

"Thought I just fancied a quiet night in, did you?"

Tom's hand dutifully slipped away from her arm and although Sybil knew it was for the best, she found herself missing the peculiarly comforting and exhilarating sensation of being held by him.

"I'm so sorry for bargin' in like this, Sybil. I shouldn't have", he whispered earnestly, dropping his voice a few decibels so as not to be heard by Mary or Edith.

Sybil worried at her lip, still feeling more emotionally exposed than she would prefer. "Don't say that Tom, I wouldn't have wanted you to go anywhere else."

Tom smiled tenderly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Although he said nothing, she could see in his eyes that he was touched by her uncharacteristically unguarded admission.

After all, heartfelt words were generally a lot more his forte than hers.

"I doubt your sisters would agree. I'm sure they already think your friends over here are a rough lot."

Just about suppressing an outright laugh, Sybil fought a smile at the irony ( _and accuracy_!) of his words. It was true that she would have a tougher job than usual on next time that she visited Downton to assure her family that Dublin was in no way more dangerous than London ( _which it wasn't!_ ) but Sybil wouldn't let that bother her now.

She took Tom by the hand, leading him towards her bathroom where she already had a first aid kit ready.

"And do you really think that you're doing your side any favours by showing up with a face like a plate of minced meat?", Sybil teased gently.

Tom rolled his eyes, eyeing her over the threshold. Smiling despite himself, he seemed to acknowledge the fact that they had gone back to their usual platonic banter, dancing around the possibility of being more than friends. "I s'ppose not."

* * *

**Review?**

**Thank you all so much for your support so far :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Standby: Chapter 6**

_..._

_I wish your mom and I could be friends_   
_I think about her now and then_   
_How we drove up to her house_   
_I'll never see that dog again_

~ Orla Gartland, Heavy.

...

**Six Years Earlier.**

Christmas at Downton was beautiful, totally utterly and completely beautiful. A huge pine tree stood at the edge of the Great Hall, adorned with crystal decorations that had likely been in The Crawley family for generations.

Having decided against going up to London with Mary and Matthew, Sybil sat by the fire in the drawing room surrounded her parents, her Aunt Rosamund and her two grandmothers. She drew her legs up underneath her, almost feeling like a little girl all over again.

Cora and Robert Crawley were whispering quietly to one another, every bit as in love as Sybil remembered from her childhood. Her Aunt and Grandmother sat next one another opposite them, clearly in the midst of some argument or other.

Smiling at the comforting familiarity of the scene before her, Sybil turned to her American Grandma.

"You know what's strange?", Martha Levinson asked conversationally. She eyed her granddaughter over her the rim of her whiskey glass with an affectionate smirk. "You and I live on the same side of the pond now and I see less of you than I ever have before."

Sybil's smile faltered apologetically. "Oh I'm sorry, Grandmama", she replied softly, gaze returning to her parents. She knew that they would berate her for pushing herself too hard if they were privy to the next words that were already more than half way out of her mouth."Medical school has proved rather demanding and..."

Martha waved a hand, completely dismissing her granddaughter's apology.

Of everyone in Sybil's immediate family, it had always been her American Grandmother who was most supportive of her somewhat unconventional dreams. "But you're enjoying it?"

Beaming, Sybil nodded. "I am, I really really am."

The smile on Martha's face only widened in return. She patted her granddaughter comfortingly on the hand.

"Then don't worry about it, Sybil. Your family will all come around soon", she reassured gently before tossing a mischievous smirk in the direction of Sybil's other grandmother; The Dowager Countess of Grantham. "...and besides, it'll be a comfort to your _other_ grandmother to have a doctor in the family. Violet Crawley is many things, but getting any younger definitely isn't one of them."

Sybil found herself fighting a smile. "Don't let her hear you say that."

Martha's eyes glinted wickedly. "You aren't going to tell on me."

"I suppose not."

The two women fell silent for a moment, the older surveying the younger with an expression that slowly morphed into something that was as close as Martha Levinson could muster to one of concern.

"Why are you still here, Sybil?"

Raising an eyebrow questionly, Sybil set her own glass down on the coffee table in front of her.

"What do you mean?"

Gesturing vaguely to their surroundings, Martha chuckled; not unkindly. "Why are you still at Downton on New Years Eve, my darling. Mary and Matthew are gone back up to their friends in London and Edith is chasing tail at Hexham. What about you, Sybil? I'd always pegged you as the wild one...my protégé."

Her grandmother's final comment was punctuated with a wink and Sybil found herself supressing an eyeroll.

"What's wrong with spending time with family at Christmas time?", she asked, her tone just a touch defensive. "As you already said, I hardly see any of you often enough."

Dismissing her granddaughter's rebuttal entirely, Martha ploughed on. "I thought you'd be visiting Dublin at some point? Hadn't you a guy over there? Very handsome, great shoulders, kept putting his foot in it with your father."

Sybil bit her lip, eyeing her grandmother tentatively. She drew herself up with all the airs of the aristocrat she was, hitching on a tight lipped smile that even Mary would be proud of. "Tom and I broke up, Grandmama."

Martha's teasing grin wavered slightly. "That's a shame. I liked him."

Sybil glanced up at grandmother, somewhat surprised."You might have been the only one then."

"I remember you quite liked him too."

"I did", Sybil said, fumbling slightly. It still hurt quite a bit to think about Tom, more than she would ever let on. Grappling with the slight ache that had settled in the pit of her stomach, she sighed in frustration."...I do but-"

Martha smiled openly, a genuine smile."Then what else matters?"

* * *

**_Present Day_ **

It's easy to loose interest in your surroundings when you're sitting around in a pub several hours before closing time.

Small talk already made and several rounds of drinks already gone through, Sybil and Tom agreed to go for a stroll and somehow (for old time's sake) ended up on the Old Library roof of their former university.

While Trinity College's Old Library Building was always famously one of the campus's most beautiful structures with its beautiful Byzantine style architecture, it also had (for the student's and former students who somehow had gotten their hands on the access codes) one of the most all encompassing views that Dublin had to offer.

The lights of College Street and Nassau street glowed softly below them, shedding light onto the grey pavements and red brick buildings that were teeming with life.

In the distance, Tom could just about make out headquarters of Google and Facebook all the way out near the docklands, see the head of the millennium Spire and the chimneys of Jameson's Distillery. More close at hand, the rooftops of The Berkeley Library, The Graduate Common Room and The Pav came into view, usually filled with students, lecturers and tourists alike but now having reached a quieter nighttime state.

Tom watched silently as Sybil swayed, a little buzzed from the alcohol, as she took in the sight of her former home. Her fingers gripped the railing with one hand, the other surrounded the neck of a bottle of Bulmers.

The evening breeze ruffled her hair and Tom felt as though, for just a moment, that he'd travelled back in time.

"So, Tom Branson", Sybil started with a lighthearted grin, her voice tugging firmly him back to the present. She adopted a tone that wouldn't have sounded at all out of place at a job interview, her eyes glinting in jest. "What else have I missed? How has your life been?"

"A little strange at times, but not bad."

"Strange how?"

Tom didn't know what possessed him to say it, but he thought it may have had something to do with the alcohol, his current nostalgic train of thought or the fact that Sybil's life had seemingly changed so much in recent years while his had reached a rather uncomfortable and smothering state of paralysis.

"Well, I got jilted at the alter last year which was definitely a highlight."

Sybil's eyes widened and she stepped back from the railing to sit beside him. "You were engaged?", she asked, tone falling somewhere between sympathy and shock.

Tom rolled his eyes, "Don't sound so surprised", he replied only half teasingly, unsure whether or not he should be offended by her disbelief.

"I'm not surprised", Sybil clarified with a shake of her head, seeming to understand his train of thought. "Any woman would be lucky to have you. I just...I just never thought you'd get married so young. Goodness..."

Shrugging, Tom found himself agreeing with her.

The person Sybil had known in college definitely wouldn't have gotten engaged at barely twenty five. At one point, Tom even remembered having argued during college debate that marriage was a purely capitalist institution that completely went against the principles of socialism.

_Christ, hadn't his younger self been quite the hardliner?_

"To be honest, I'd never thought so either...but she wanted to."

Sybil eyed him cautiously, clearly trying to decide whether or not it was in her place to inquire further. After a few seconds, it seemed as though her curiosity won out.

"So what happened?"

"While Sarah and I were both ready for a serious relationship at the time, I s'ppose we just didn't...fit. D'you know? At least not in the ways that matter"

Sybil smiled understandingly, letting out a tired breath. "I do actually, all to well. During my first two years of medical school, I didn't really have much time for a relationship. Then at Christmas one year, my parents introduced me to Larry."

Tom glanced sideways at her, a single eyebrow raised. "The entitled arse?"

Smirking humourlessly, Sybil nodded. "Yeah, the entitled arse", she agreed, her voice quickly loosing a fair chunk of it's mirth. "They introduced me to Larry...and that was just _it_ for a while. For the first time in my life I was doing exactly what they expected of me."

Tom nodded soberly, taking a swig of his beer as Sybil pointedly looked away from him, gathering her emotions, before continuing on.

"Strangely, it ended up being the longest relationship I've ever been in. I think it worked for as long as it did becuase Larry and I had such busy schedules. We hardly ever saw each other at all towards the end."

As he watched her Tom felt a ripple of concern rush through him...a feeling that, when it came to Sybil, wasn't altogether foreign."So ye drifted apart?", he asked carefully.

Sybil shook her head, taking another sip of her drink. She decidedly avoided Tom's eye, her tone audibly bitter. "Not exactly, Larry cheated on me with his secretary. Painfully unoriginal of him really."

"Feck it, Sybil. I'm sorry."

Sybil shrugged, her voice only somewhat bitter. "Don't be. The whole thing was a stupid waste of time on my part."

"You and Larry were together for what?", Tom asked, trying to recall what she'd told him earlier. "Three years"

"Yeah", Sybil replied, huffing out a humourless laugh. "I spent every single bloody weekend with Larry Bloody Grey for three years. Jesus Christ, I was nuts!"

Tom smiled at her thoughtfully, definitely blaming the next words that came out of his mouth on the alcohol he'd consumed. "So that's one hundred and four days a year for three years. Giving a sum total of three hundred and twelve days."

Sybil shrugged, slightly bemused by his calculations."I guess so."

A slightly cocky smile twitched at the corner of Tom's lips and he returned his gaze to the university's quad and campanile, the very spot where they'd first met on Fresher's Week all those years ago. He'd hadn't exactly thought of the pair of them coming back here, but it was rather fitting that they did. "But you and I were together for over a year."

Sybil smirked, understanding what he was getting at. "So you're still technically my longest relationship?"

"Technically."

Rolling her eyes, Sybil smiled. She followed his gaze back out on to the grounds, an odd sense of peace coming over her. "You know what? That's oddly comforting. Cheers."

Tom chuckled, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "You're welcome, Syb"

Her eyes soften ever so slightly at the nickname. Sybil bit her lip silently, as though toying with the next words that fell from her lips. "Tom, do you remember when you were younger, did you believe that there would be countless people with whom you would connect with throughout life?

Smiling soberly, Tom had to admit he understood the feeling perfectly. It was a feeling that always, without fail, came over him when he thought of Sybil. Even now, she was the only woman who he could genuinely call 'the one who got away'."

And then you wake up and realise that those kinds of connections happen only a few times?", Tom finished simply.

Sybil nodded. "Exactly."

He grimaced at the strange tug he felt in the pit of his stomach as he looked at her, unable to pull his thoughts away from everywhere they'd gone wrong."It hurts doesn't it?"

She sighed deeply in agreement. "Sometimes"

Taking another sip from his beer, Tom felt the urge to push the conversation just a little bit further. His mother and sisters had always complained he'd had all the sophisticated the subtlety of a concrete brick.

"You never did come back to visit. Six whole years, eh? That hurt too."

Sybil eyed him cooly, giving him that breezy look that told him he was every bit as much to blame as she was. "I did actually", she said, her tone perfectly nonchalant."...but you were a little busy at the time."

Tom frowned, genuinely taken aback. He'd never ran into Sybil since the day she'd left...had he?

"Wait, what?"

Sybil raised her eyebrows, surprised at his confusion. "New Years Eve 2015", she reminded firmly. "Does that ring any bells?"

Tom wracked his brains, coming up with flashes of a wild night and a killer hangover on New Years Day. Kieran had been very insistent that year on getting his younger brother back out on the tear and back 'into the saddle'...with predictably disastrous consequences.

"Jaysus Sybil", Tom said, knowing that whatever state she'd found him in couldn't have been good. "Why didn't you ring beforehand?"

Sybil smiled almost smugly. "I'm not sure that would have helped matters for either of us."

"Oh Syb, I-", he started, feeling the immediate need to excuse whatever his drunken arse may have said or done.

Chuckling, Sybil looked almost pleased with the discomfort she'd caused. "It's okay, Tom. Water under the bridge, right?"

"I am sorry, Love", Tom said, attempting to fumble out a genuine apology. He wished he could remember what he'd said to her...but just couldn't. "Truly"

Sybil eyed him almost affectionately, taking another swig from her bottle. She poked him teasingly on the arm, a smile playing about her lips. "Look at you, overestimating your long term impact!"

Tom returned her smile, albeit with some hesitation. "You always did say I was full of myself."

Sybil smirked thoughtfully, her smile faltering somewhat.

"Hmm, and I'm still standing faithfully by that description."

Silence engulfed them for several minutes, the nighttime bustle of Dublin, the faint sounds of chatter from the Schols buildings and the distant yowling of Trinny, the college cat, filling their ears.

"You know, Tom", Sybil said softly after some time, not quite meeting his eye. "In hindsight, I think you made the best decision. You weren't ready to leave Dublin when we finished college."

Tom nodded in agreement. "Probably not. But then again, you were always a lot braver than me."

Sybil whirled around to face him, surprising even him when she immediately took up arms against Tom's own self depreciating joke."That's not true!"

Unconvinced, he smiled at her somewhat tenderly. "You left England all on your own at seventeen, Sybil...and went off to America at twenty one. That's more than I can say. I'm in my late twenties and I've never lived anywhere but Dublin."

"But you love it here, Tom", Sybil argued, remembering very well their final argument all too well. He'd chose his family, his home and a chance at his dream career over her...Sybil couldn't exactly fault him for that. After all, she'd likely have done the same. "You always did."

Tom eyed her seriously, knowing he may very well end up regretting the next words that fell from his mouth...but then again, that had never stopped him before.

"Not as much as I loved you...once upon a time, anyway."

To his surprise, Sybil laughed aloud.

Stretching her legs, she wordlessly fumbled her way into a standing position before offering Tom a hand to pull him up. Despite the weight of his admission, a comfortable sense of true companionship fell between them...just like old times.

"Well, now I can say for sure that you've definitely had too much to drink. Let's get out of here, shall we Tom? I thought you promised me a grand reacquainting with Dear Old Dublin!"

* * *

**A/N: Let's just pretend it hasn't been six months, shall we? Hahaha! I'm so incredibly sorry for the late update. Hope you guys are still enjoying this :)**


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